


Clarity

by stephanericher



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if he could just melt right now into Shiro’s skin, like the flurries that land on Shiro’s eyelashes, then he wouldn’t mind so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

It seems almost a pity to break the soft white expanse of snow with their feet, and then with their shovels; even though the lions stick out like the jagged edges of a split fingernail the surface of the snow itself seems so serene, like someone’s drawn on artificial glaze. Keith tells himself to stop being so damn sappy (it’s snow; it’s cold and wet and heavy and gross, and pretty or not they have to get it off the lions somehow and since there’s no snowblower and they’re the first ones awake, this is how it’s going to be) but he lets himself have one last lingering look before he steps out and his foot falls into its depths.

“Pretty, huh?” says Shiro.

Of course he’d choose now to say that, when he’s stepping out behind Keith, hand on approximately the small of Keith’s back (and Keith can feel it even through the heavy parka Allura had insisted on lending him that he’s now thinking maybe was a good idea). The snow’s still coming down, just barely, a few scattered flakes spinning in the air until they come to rest. The sky is still overcast but it doesn’t look as heavy as it had last night, before it had dumped all this down on top of them (and still apparently hasn’t emptied out), and Keith doesn’t know that much about snow but he hopes that means it’s mostly done. Because as pretty as this is, he doesn’t want to have to come out here again.

The green and yellow lions are closest to the castle; Shiro takes the green and Keith heads over toward the yellow. Their footprints leave a path in the snow, but the disturbance isn’t too great just yet. Keith plunges his shovel into the snow near the lion’s foot and lifts. It’s heavier than he’s expecting; he’s managed to grab a lot of snow but it’s so wet and dense that Keith nearly stumbles backward. He manages to hold his balance and toss the snow over his shoulder. He turns; Shiro’s already made a little headway. It’s not a competition (it’s not even a tacit not-competition competition) but Keith doesn’t want to fall behind or have Shiro do more than he does. He sets his face against the biting wind and picks up another chunk of snow.

It gets easier after a couple of minutes, when Keith feels more awake (the sting of the air and the weight of the snow certainly don’t hurt) and he’s already starting to establish a rhythm of dig, toss, dig, toss, scrape. And it’s not what he’d pick for a morning workout, but it gets the job done. When he’s about halfway through he glances behind him again; Shiro’s looking over at him, leaning on his shovel and a little bit farther. Keith would yell over at him but his throat already feels a little raw from the wind and cold, so he settles for a wave (and takes the smile he gets in return for all it’s worth).

They finish at roughly the same time, and yeah, Shiro’s probably slowed his pace down a bit but Keith doesn’t mind too terribly, not when it gives Shiro just enough time to walk over to him by the time he’s scraped the last bit of snow off the yellow lion’s claw.

“How you holding up?” Shiro says.

“Fine,” says Keith.

He’s a little winded and quite cold, but nothing there’s nothing alarming or even unexpected about that, and if he’d had to guess he’d say Shiro’s in the same boat. That much is confirmed when Shiro wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and leans on him, nuzzling against Keith’s scarf like a cat trying to worm its way between couch cushions. And suddenly it’s totally worth it, all the shoveling they’ve done and all they have left to do, because right now he’s got Shiro to himself and when’s the last time that happened when they weren’t half asleep or in the middle of a mission? Slowly Shiro’s hands slide up Keith’s jacket and Keith wishes the jacket was just a little bit thinner so maybe he could feel the gesture—but when Shiro’s deep-space-cold-hands touch his cheeks, he yelps. Maybe not. And Keith’s own fingertips are freezing; the gloves cover almost everything and keep some of what they don’t warm, but it’s always the extremities that get caught by frostbite first. Shiro’s coat pockets are open and Keith drops his hands inside, flexing them against the warmth of Shiro seeping through. Shiro grins at him, softer than thousand-thread-count sheets, and Keith’s stomach swoops and twists inside of him (and it still does that no matter how long they’ve been dating because he’ll probably never not get caught off-guard by this thing in Shiro’s face when he does that). Shiro brings his hands up again and Keith half-sighs (so damn cold, and Shiro’s eyes are still locked on his) and then Shiro’s hands are on his ears and he almost jerks away.

“Your ears are so warm,” Shiro murmurs, words that die in the air but are already so close to Keith he hears them with perfect clarity.

“My hair covers them,” says Keith. “And warm is relative.”

It’s hard to think about being warm when his fingertips are barely starting to tingle in Shiro’s jacket pockets (his palms at least can sense the warmth radiating through the layers of Shiro’s clothing) and his ears are just reacting to Shiro’s fingertips, blunt and cold and slow (and the metal ones are usually a shock but not this much, and this time his skin’s just as bad) and his cheeks might actually freeze off, and then Shiro kisses him on the nose. Keith tries to twist his face but it’s too stiff to really do anything but Shiro’s lips are burning on the insides, and then when they move down to touch his, the feeling starts to spread. He’s still cold, but his throat is hot, a volcano beginning to build up toward eruption (it’s still far away but he’s melting at the core).

He's pressing his body closer to Shiro’s, trying to get at some more of that warmth; Shiro’s lips trail down the front of his neck and Keith sighs. His chin ducks down below Keith’s scarf and Keith shudders; the cold-flesh-on-warm and warm-flesh-on-cold is too much as a combination, especially when Shiro begins to laugh. He pulls his face away and Keith tries to scowl, but he really can’t.

“I don’t want to keep shoveling,” Shiro murmurs.

(It’s unfair of him to say it like that, to push at Keith to be the responsible one who pushes them to finish here and do what they’re supposed to, but it’s always been this way between them, always Shiro the one pulling them just a little bit away from duty and Keith pressing them back. But it’s also unfair that so often Shiro has to be the responsible one, unfair that everyone else expects him to be that way all of the time—and the small amount of wiggle room Shiro occasionally gives himself is no burden to bear in comparison.)

“I don’t either,” Keith says, and kisses him again.

(And if he could just melt right now into Shiro’s skin, like the flurries that land on Shiro’s eyelashes, then he wouldn’t mind so much.)

“We told Allura and Coran we would.”

He takes his hands out from Shiro’s pockets, and even in their limited feeling his fingertips are already protesting against the cold again. He could say more, that the others are probably up so even if they go inside they won’t have it to themselves, or give a less-selfish reason like the fact that the lions do need to be shoveled out (or a more comforting one like the sooner they finish here the sooner they get to go inside and go back to sleep), but Shiro knows it all already.

The sky above them is brighter; there’s a sun out there somewhere. Keith picks up his shovel.

“Come on; I bet I’ll finish my lion before you do yours.”

“That’s a challenge, huh?” says Shiro.

He flashes Keith a grin, and Keith echoes it right back. His face still feels warm, and he’s pretty sure Shiro’s still does, too.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh what is a premise why are they digging out the lions why didn't they wake everyone up who knows not me i just wanted snow shoveling fluff so that is what i wrote B)


End file.
